TheColourOfStarlight
by TheColourOfStarlight
Summary: AU. When stars scintillate, their very colours seem to change. Like those celestial bodies, the dynamics of our own relationships are constantly shifting. And although we may not know it at the time, what we experience is comparable to the brightest star. [SoraxRoxas]
1. Indigo - Alone

**Dear Reader: bear with me; I'm trying something new. You know how some songs in music flow seamlessly from one to the other, often with a smooth little segue? That's what I'm trying here, only with words. I've got ten shorts—or maybe one overarching romance… your call—where the last word of one story is the first word of the next. I've never seen segues like this done before in literature, so (as far as I know) I've done something new! And also, in the spirit of the segue, I will not have a "liner note" at the end of each story. Instead, they will be clumped together at the end. Thank you for tolerating my whimsies; and, more importantly, thank you for reading.**

**~TheColourOfStarlight**

-o-o-o-

**TheColourOfStarlight**

-o-o-o-

_Indigo_

-o-o-o-

…Sometimes, when he was by himself in his too-quiet apartment, Sora would think about things. Sure, when he was out in the world, he was talkative and friendly. A picture-perfect extrovert if there ever was one. But when he was alone—truly _alone_—it was like he would transform into somebody else entirely.

There was this quiet side to him that no one had ever seen before. To him, this side was the real Sora. Because when you're by yourself, you don't have to live through others. You're not "the loud one," "the smart one," or "the funny one." You just _are_, even if you're really nobody at all.

So, some nights he became a philosopher. Others, he wore the mask of a mathematician or an artist. And sometimes, he was even the walrus. But he would always occupy himself by thinking. Pondering. Often, something on television would intrigue him; or make him suddenly angry, or sad. Usually, these were things that people normally didn't expect him to think about.

Maybe that was why he never told anyone about his reflections.

They were too personal, and a little embarrassing—things that, even though everybody in the whole world struggled with them, no one else could even begin to understand. And while it was true that Sora was a bit of an airhead (he would be the first to admit it), his mind still wandered just like everybody else's.

These days, loneliness had a funny way of sneaking up behind him. He could be doing the most mundane things—laundry, or making himself another PB&J—and he would suddenly feel pangs in his chest. Maybe that was why, recently, his thoughts had begun to drift more and more towards love, to someone who could understand his Hopes and Fears.

Sora himself wasn't really sure what love was like. He knew what being in love was; of that, he was sure. But somebody being in love with him? Never. He had always been alone. Until recently, he had liked it. But now… Now he was beginning to realize that he was actually pretty lonely.

He sat on the loveseat while the television played, the light from the screen illuminating his face though the darkness. The host of whatever program was airing, Jimmy—was it Kimmel, or Fallon?—was sweating bullets as another one of his lackluster jokes bombed, but Sora paid him no heed. The light from the screen simply flickered across his eyes. Tonight, the laughter of the audience was white noise to his thoughts.

He was tired of being alone every night, of feeling so damn hollow. More than anything, he just wanted to be with someone, somebody he could fill himself with. But how do you know when you've found that person, what _was_ love? It's some kind of spark, right?—a kind of energy that you feel pass between the two of you, something special and wholly indescribable. That was what he had been told all of his life after all.

Or perhaps he'd been taught to look for something that didn't exist… Maybe you were just supposed to find someone decent and settle down, and maybe—if you were lucky—love would grow from there. The odds of finding love that way are much better, empirically speaking. But no; that was something he refused to do. Love was real, he had finally decided, and he was determined to find it.

A commercial screamed at him from the television set and jolted him back into the present. For a brief second, his heart was in his throat, but he soon began to normalize. He sighed as one ad gave way to the next, and closed his eyes sleepily as his thoughts meandered back to love.

His imagination was beginning to run away from him now; it was growing late. In his head, he was watching as his life intertwined with someone else's. It could be as simple as saying hello to someone—but he knew that, in the end, it was always so much more.

Maybe the person at the register would be a dollar or two short, so he'd step in and pay for the rest of their macchiato. The shop would be empty, so he would strike up a conversation with them. They'd hit it off, and talk the afternoon away. Or maybe he'd jump underneath someone's umbrella in the rain and find a friendly face waiting there. It would be romantic, of course, because that's the way these things worked.

He yawned as he pushed a button on the remote control and turned off the TV, casting a veil of gloom over the room. With the television set off, the silence seemed so much louder than it had before, to "thunder through the room," to use that oxymoronic cliché. It really was just him.

He cast a glance toward the outline of his bedroom door. His roommate was probably asleep already. Sora envied him; all Sora had in his heart was masks. His roommate on the other hand (for all Sora could tell) was genuinely happy. Sora frowned to himself. The dark suddenly felt very big.

He closed his eyes and, alone in the dark, dreamed about the first date he and his other half would have. He didn't know what they would do, probably have dinner. Nothing too fancy, of course; it was just the first date. Maybe the fair would be in town, and they'd hop on the Ferris wheel. The ride would stop, inevitably with them at the top. Because that's the way it's supposed to happen. Right?

With a yawn, he stood up and headed to the bathroom. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he still stumbled blindly in the shadows before he felt his hand brush against the bathroom door. He stepped inside, flipping the light on. The bright incandescent lights on the room's sterile whites hurt his eyes.

Their first kiss, he thought, would be stolen in a dark theatre, perhaps. Or maybe out on a picnic on a warm summer day, he would be lying on his back in the grass as his date did the same. One of them would roll over, the sun warming their cheeks, and kiss the other just because it felt right.

Sora peered into the mirror with a blank look. He didn't like the face that blinked back at him. It looked tired. Well, he _was_ tired, but it wasn't just that. It was something more than physical fatigue, something deeper. He felt himself frown again (such a bad habit) as he searched for his toothbrush. He was too young for this existentialist crap…

As he watched the toothpaste squirt onto the brush, he thought about the first… morning after. He would wake up in his lover's arms. They would smile at each other, and there would be an intimacy that hadn't been there the day before, everything would change.

And then he pictured their first fight. How one of them would explode over something minor and insignificant. The state of the toilet seat seemed to be a perennial favorite of the silver screen; but maybe it would be something else, something larger and much more important.

After all the on-and-off-and-on-again, his eyes were finally adjusting to the bright lights. He grabbed onto the squeaky faucet—it was ice-cold and sent him a shiver up his arm—and he turned on the sink. The taste of toothpaste in his mouth always cheered him up a little. It was weird, and he didn't know why it did, but it just _did_.

His mind was becoming fuzzy, his brain was starting to shut down, but it didn't stop him from imagining all the breaking ups, the sadnesses, and the getting-back-together-agains that would come. Maybe there would be lots of them. They would be Ross and Rachel. Or maybe they would be together forever.

Sora flipped the light switch and drowned the room in shadow. As he slipped into his room, moving from darkness to darkness, his thoughts degenerated, lost all form. They tumbled into the recesses of his mind, intersected and intertwined into a jumbled mess of dating and loving and living. He blinked, and they were gone, only to reappear in some different form, if he remembered them at all. It might have been a different topic entirely for all he knew.

He lay in bed and thought about hugs and kisses and relationships and happiness, about dates and sex and love and lust. And he told himself that even though he hadn't exactly found it yet, he was going to keep looking for love; and as he drifted to sleep—to dream of things that his friends and family were only waiting for him to care about—he knew that, eventually, he would find it…

-o-o-o-

**2/2/2014**


	2. White - Meeting

-o-o-o-

**TheColourOfStarlight**

-o-o-o-

_Blanc_

-o-o-o-

…It was a rainy day in the city. The sky was overcast with dark clouds, and thunder spilled out from the heavens. The rain had slowed down, but occasionally, the cool precipitation would slip past Roxas's umbrella and splash lightly on his face. A drop of rain slid down his cheek and landed on the camera dangling from his neck.

His friends were all tucked away inside: they all hated gloomy weather like this, but Roxas didn't mind it. In fact, he adored it. The rain, he thought, perfectly epitomized the melancholy of life—necessary, but not always pleasant.

He held up his camera and clicked another photograph, this time of an empty alley. The shadows of the thick clouds above formed a scene rich with black contrasts that Roxas could hardly resist. The photographs of the rain were among his favorites in his portfolio. They revealed a secret side of the city that went unappreciated by the majority of the population.

He was busy trying to find the elusive perfect angle for a nearby bench—he really loved the geometry of it—when the wind began to howl. He took a shot and quickly tucked his camera into his jacket. The rain was fixing to pick up again. It would make sense; he was just starting to really enjoy himself…

Roxas picked up the umbrella he had brought from the ground and flicked it open. The waiting heavens suddenly let go of their burden and the storm began again. The branches of the planter trees that lined the sidewalk in a lonely row caught the majority of the precipitation, but the drops that managed to sneak past created overlapping little _thumps_ on his umbrella.

A sigh poked out of his lips as he walked along. It wasn't terribly cold, but the rain made it seem much worse. He pulled his coat closer to him. None of that cinnamon roll warmth was going to escape on his watch.

Not a soul was out—they were inside hiding their heads—so Roxas was unabashed in talking to himself: thinking of what he was going to do tonight for Halloween. He was bouncing between staying in and calling his friends for dinner, when a stranger jumped out from under the protection of the trees. He ducked under Roxas's umbrella—catching Roxas totally unaware—with a sheepish grin.

"Hey," the newcomer said as he caught his breath. "I hope you don't mind sharing your umbrella with me. I was on my way home when it really started coming down." As if to prove his point, the sky rumbled ominously above them. "And I didn't even think of bringing an umbrella today." Roxas thought about it warily. His mother had always warned him about strangers. "You'd sure be doing me a favor…" his visitor intoned hopefully.

The blond looked over at his new companion. His clothes were speckled with rainwater, and his brown hair, done up into what must had been daring spikes before, had begun to droop like an overwatered fern. It gave him the vague appearance, Roxas thought, of a sad clown. "Sure," Roxas said finally, feeling a little sympathetic. He really wasn't in the mood for pushy strangers, however, so he walked along without another word. That didn't deter the newcomer.

"You look familiar," the umbrella interloper said as they strolled down the street. There was no good reason to hurry when it rains, Roxas had always thought. It's like the whole world slows down. "Where have I seen you before…?"

Roxas shrugged and gave an uninterested grunt. He refused to look at the stranger. That would validate his existence, and Roxas just couldn't let that happen.

"Do you go to the university here?" the brunet asked.

"…Yeah…" the blond answered. He stole a glance at the other boy. Now that he mentioned it, Roxas could almost swear that he _had_ seen him around before. "I'm a junior, studying psychology. My name's Roxas… by the way," he added. It was always a good idea to be nice to people you might see again.

"That's neat!" The other boy said. "I'm Sora." Roxas nodded as he added the name and face to his mental Rolodex. "I'm enrolled in the business college, which is probably why we don't know each other," Sora said with a small laugh. "I'm studying international business. I really want to travel the world."

"That would be pretty neat," Roxas nodded.

"So, whatcha doin' for Halloween?" Sora asked, cocking an eyebrow. The rain was coming down in full force now, and his voice was hardly audible over the big hits of the rain.

"I… don't know," Roxas answered.

"If you're gonna go trick-or-treating, you can say it," Sora said. "Even though I'm too old for it, I won't judge you if you do."

"I'm not going trick-or-treating," Roxas answered sharply, sounding more like a whine than he would have liked. Sora simply nodded his head knowingly. Something about this guy was starting to get under Roxas's skin. "I don't have any plans," the blond said finally.

"Oh," the brunet said with a smile, "Well, I'm actually going to a Halloween party myself."

"That's wonderful," Roxas replied, his response heavily-laced with sarcasm.

"No, no," the stranger backtracked, clearly embarrassed. "What I meant was… I know we just met and all, but you're welcome to come along with me. If you want. You know, my way of saying thanks, I guess." Roxas gave him a frown. "It's gonna be a pretty big bash, so you'll hardly be noticed," the brunet added quickly.

"No thanks," Roxas replied, perhaps more crossly than he intended. "I think I'll just spend the night in, reading." He sighed easily, a smile forming across his lips. "I picked up a new book that I'm dying to dig into."

"Oh?" the stranger said. "What is it?"

"It's a new verse translation of the _Metamorphoses_ by Ovid. I've been dying to get my hands on it." Roxas smiled to himself shyly. He was a big literature nerd and his friends never let him get a moment's peace for it.

"Really," the stranger said, quickly stepping over a puddle as he walked beside the blond. His shoes were starting to soak through. "I think I read that one in high school. It was really weird."

"Yeah, it is a little strange," Roxas agreed. He was pleasantly surprised that his guest was acquainted with Ovid. He really was an acquired taste, but still… Maybe this Sora fellow wasn't as bad as his first impression implied.

"My favorite book is _One Hundred Years of Solitude_," Sora said quietly. "I read it every year."

"Oh, it's that good, is it?" Roxas asked, a mischievous smile barely contained within his lips.

"Yeah," Sora answered. "It's great. Some people consider it to be his best work, but I think otherwise. It's still really good, though." Sora looked away. "I guess I really like the magical realism in it."

Roxas nodded his head. Talking about literature, especially things he had never read before, always excited him.

"Well," the brunet slowed to a stop as he tossed his gaze over his shoulder. "This is the part where I have to run fast. My place is at the end of this street." He gave the blond one last look. "Thanks a lot!" he said, genuine emotion in his voice; and with a wave of his hand, he sprinted off through the rain, arms over his head, and disappeared around the corner.

Roxas watched him go with unblinking eyes before he looked down at his watch; he figured he still had time to make it to the library before it closed. He couldn't help but smile a little when he hear Sora's voice—as clear as if he were standing next to him—echo down the boulevard, somehow carried over the violent rain…

"It was nice meeting you…"

-o-o-o-

**7/11/2014**


	3. Yellow - Date

-o-o-o-

**TheColourOfStarlight**

-o-o-o-

_Jaune_

-o-o-o-

…You really wanna know about our first date? But it's not even that great of a story! Ohh, alright—but it's pretty lame… And I have to warn you: some of the smaller details have probably slipped my mind by now.

Okay, let's see; I guess I'll start with when I asked him out:

I think it was a Tuesday. I remember that we had just gotten out of composition class—no, it _was_ a Tuesday. We'd both been worried sick about the midterm essay that was due (it was a long one), and after that, we were free.

Anyway, it was the last class of the day for us, and I was one of the first ones done. I'm a decent enough writer, I think. Not good enough to let anyone actually read anything, but y'know… So I was waiting for him outside the classroom, sitting on one of those benches that basically every university has, one of those backless, pushed up against the wall numbers.

I think I was on my laptop or something. Yeah, that's it. The sun was shining in bright and I had a hard time seeing the screen no matter how bright I made it. That's a really weird detail to throw in. Never mind. So people were trickling out the door like water dripping from a roof. It'd open and I'd look up, only to face disappointment time and time again.

Finally, I buried myself in an article. I don't remember what it was, maybe about penguins or something. Penguins were his favorite animal, wouldn't you know? Anyway, I had just started reading when he finally finished up.

The door clicked shut in the background. "Hey," he said to me softly. Haha, I remember holding up a finger, telling him to wait. I totally had my priorities lined out. I finished the paragraph and gave him my attention. It felt like a scene in a movie. Y'know, when the background is this bright blur of moving colors and the only thing in focus is the person you're looking at? The sunlight from the window cascaded over his face. He looked like Adonis, bronzed twice over.

"Hey," I said back eloquently. "How do you think you did?" As English wasn't his native language, he had been fretting about this the night before. Cutely, I might add.

He shook his head with a pitiless chuckle. "Horrible," he sighed as he collapsed next to me onto the seat. He had his bag draped lazily over his shoulder and looked positively cool. I'll never know how he does it; I've tried the whole "only-use-one-arm-strap" thing, and all it accomplished was me dropping my bag and everything in it all over the floor of chem lab.

I closed my notebook and we stood up. He gave a tired stretch, I laughed—well, more like that thing where you just breathe air out of your nose real quick—and we trudged down the hall, not saying a word but simply enjoying each other's company. Stumbling across a comfortable silence in college is rare, I'm sure you know, even with your friends. You sorta relish each one you find in a weird little way. "Umm, Sora…?" he looked over at me as I broke the silence.

Our eyes met, and there was a twinkle in his eye and I swear I forgot to breathe. Asking someone out is a scary thing. I'd never done anything like that before. Putting yourself totally out there, where anything can happen? No thank you! Thinking about it now, even today, it frightens me a little!

I can remember when he first told me he was gay. We were just hanging out, playing ERS in my apartment, and out it came. Totally unprompted: "Roxas, I'm gay." It was weird. I had thought about my sexuality in the past—wow, this is awkward to talk about, especially with you guys!—but I had never really defined my sexuality. In fact, I had just kinda assumed that I would die a lonely virgin.

So I don't understand why I blurted out that I was too. We laughed. Well, it was more along the lines of an awkward chuckle, then we went back to playing our game. We never talked about it again. But I couldn't forget that… thing, that _moment_ between us. It was nice having given myself a proper label. I felt like I could actually go out and fall in love with someone. And soon I was love-struck.

"Roxas…? Roxas, are you okay?" I always seemed to zone out around him. I guess I'm kinda an airhead.

"Yeah, yeah," I assured him quickly. Our little stroll began to slow down, I don't know who precipitated that, but things like that kinda force you to talk, y'know? "I was wondering," I began. I felt the apprehension slowly grow inside of me, stretching out like a cold rubber band. "I mean, I hope this isn't too forward…"

By that point, we had made our way out of the hallway and were idly standing in the staircase. I think our class was the last ones of the day, because the building was practically deserted. He looked over at a poster on the wall, one for the speech team, I think, as I tried to recollect my thoughts.

"You were wondering…?" he asked after a beat. I think he knew what was coming. I guess you kinda had to be blind to _not_ see, given the circumstances. His cheeks had the slightest rosy tint to them. He was precious.

"W—Would you like to go on a date sometime?" I mumbled. I notice the odd grin that had escaped his lips and hoped for the best.

"No…" he said.

I felt my heart drop into my shoes. The only thing that makes a rejection better is knowing that you probably fucked up a great friendship too (pardon my French). Self-loathing poured into my stomach. I was so… _upset._

"…That isn't too forward."

I blinked. The whirlwind in my chest slowed, as if the winds were once again in Aeolus's bag. At that point, I couldn't help but smile, a big stupid grin. "Do you have anything in mind?" he asked. I was smiling so hard, and trying my hardest not to laugh out of pure relief.

"Y—Yeah," I nodded. The rubber band inside of me finally snapped, and I was over the moon. I was so overblown with joy. I was actually planning a date with Sora, right then in the present! "Actually, there is a French restaurant nearby that I've been wanting to try." That wasn't a lie. I was a bit of a Francophile then. Still am.

He told me that he was free on Friday, and asked if that was a good day. I nodded the affirmative, and we set up the time: seven on the nose. And then, we just froze. We must have looked like total buffoons (or just two college boys in love…) because we just stood there trying our hardest not to look at the other person. I was still smiling like an idiot, and he had decided that it looked fun because he started doing it too. And there was this brief little moment of bliss, this bubble of time that only we were living in, if only for just a second.

"So Friday then." I nodded, grinning ear to ear. I had a pile of notes to study, but they would be there all weekend. "Cool," he said. And before I had the chance to react, he had hopped down the rest of the stairs and had vanished.

-o-o-o-

I want to say that Time went by at a clichéd snail's pace as I waited for some magical evening. But it really didn't. For going so slow, those days knew how to haul ass (oh, sorry). It's nice when you live alone—or I guess when you and your roommate depend on you for everything: you have life to keep you busy. There's always laundry and cleaning and errands and making food…

But Friday was absolutely horrible. The power had went out the night before and my alarm clock got all messed up, you know how it is: it gets blinky and stuff. And then there was a chemistry test, but I just couldn't focus. I guess I was still a little groggy during the exam considering I woke up five minutes after it started. Then I went and volunteered; it was a hectic day at the food pantry. Fridays always were.

And even after all that, there was still the nerves. Damn those nerves. I don't think I've ever been that nervous. Ever. I spent the entire day so tense I'm surprised I didn't collapse into myself like a black hole and disappear entirely. Constantly checking the clock, I was a wreck. I had cleared out my closet twice trying to find something to wear that evening.

I decided on some skinny jeans and my favorite sweater. It was my lucky purple one, with a nice argyle pattern, and with my black boxer briefs I felt absolutely—oh, don't give me that look. I'm only telling you this because I always feel sexier when I wear them, so there was like, this boost of confidence, okay? It is very crucial to the story.

Anyway, I didn't have time to do my hair proper so I stuck it under the showerhead then threw some gel into it. I brushed my teeth twice and flossed thrice. I asked my exasperated roomie how I looked for the umpteenth time, if I wasn't overdone but not too casual either. I peeked once more into our bathroom mirror before I headed out.

It's funny how you can leave with time to spare and you still end up late. Does that ever happen to you? I'd driven past the restaurant so many times, I could probably drive you there blindfolded, even today; the simple ten minute route was burned into my brain thanks to simple routine. However, there was an accident on the little street that I always took, and I ended up running behind.

Fortunately, this wasn't some blind date, or he probably would have left me, thinking I had stood him up.

The place we went to looked quaint on the inside. I had never been, but I was quite taken by it, just by driving by it every week. It was part of a larger chain, but still had a nice home-y feel to it: _Le chat noir._ They had a great Rosemary chicken…

Anyway, so I was running late. I had sent him a text on my way (don't text and drive!), and he had stepped across the street to a coffee shop. I parked out back and went inside. I was not disappointed by the décor, and I felt immediately at home. That was good, I think… Helped calm the nerves. So I was reading the little flyers on the wall—apparently they cater—when he walked in. We were friends already, and I had memorized his face just by staring at it so much when he wasn't looking…

…But never had he looked so _amazing_. I had never noticed how tall he was. I mean, he wasn't six-foot-five or anything, maybe an inch or two taller than me. But it seemed so pronounced then. His brown hair had been cut shorter than I remembered. I guess he had gotten a haircut recently. The look of innocence on his face hadn't left, though.

"Hey." That was all he had said, an echo from earlier, but I could feel my heart leap into my chest. It's weird… you can talk and text someone every day, but when you go out on a date with them, everything kinda changes. It becomes so much more _personal._ Those long-distance Internet relationships… When they see each other in person, it must be like falling in love all over again!

"What's up?" I replied, trying my hardest not to betray my jittering soul. We walked up to the counter, neither of us knowing what to say. It's moments like those, where you're scared out of your mind but totally at peace… moments like those you wish you could photograph and keep with you forever. If only to hold on to that feeling. I mean, love is nice. I don't mean that it's not! But those little moments of truth and the weird twilight feeling… That's where the real magic is at, I think.

We placed our order. He had chicken; I had a sandwich. We talked about ourselves. I mean, we had talked about ourselves before (lots, actually), but this time we did it "first date" proper.

He was Latino, that much I already knew. But what I didn't know was that he was an exchange student from Colombia. I thought that was the most incredible thing. And I guess he did too, the way he brought it up. "Oh, I like your accent," he had told me innocuously enough. I laughed and said it was just your standard Midwest accent, nothing special. The truth was, I loved his accent, and was glad I could tell him without being weird about it. I couldn't quite place it, but he was more than willing to oblige.

"I'm Colombian. It's a Colombian accent," he said with a proud smile. I remember that look on his face, and that crooked grin that I can still see late at night.

"Ahh," I said. "The only thing I know about Colombia is that Sofia Vergara's character on _Modern Family_ is from there." Clearly, I knew very little about the great country of Colombia. "And she has a great accent too."

"What?" he asked, his jaw falling into his lap. (Actually, I suppose it was more like "_WHAAAAAA?_") "Nooooooo. That's not real!"

It's so silly when I stop and really think back on it, but that was it: the exact moment. I didn't fall in love with him. But I knew that one day I could. His eyes wide, a little scowl gracing those pencil-fine lips of his. When I'm by myself and I listen hard, I can still hear the outrage in his voice.

"Colombians hate her for that! That's not a real Colombian accent. She's exaggerated!" His utter disbelief at my ignorance carried with it a deeper wrath than he would care to admit, maybe he didn't even know it himself, but that didn't stop me from smiling all over. Sora was not amused.

Our food arrived, and the dinner conversation carried on basically the same way. Me making some kind of blunder (typically concerning the country of Colombia) and him gently correcting my ignorance. That night I learned that his dream was to travel the world, that his love of Colombia was rivaled only by his love of cats, and that he was possibly the most interesting person I would ever meet in my life.

Okay, so I was super nervous the night before. I had never gone out with a guy before, or anyone really. I didn't know what to do at all! I googled all sorts of first date decorum. (Impressive, right?) Tip #1 was easy: make them want more by keeping it short. If my nerves were anything like I knew them to be, our first date could be over in ten minutes.

But it wasn't.

I was so, I dunno… amazed with the person sitting across from me. Seeing someone—maybe just a picture or two on Facebook—and experiencing them are two mutually exclusive things, and though you might watch them from afar, they are always so different up close. They're so raw and beautiful.

He finished a good ten minutes before I did. I was too busy ogling him. And I didn't want the night to end. I ate so slow. How cheesy, right? In retrospect, that might have been where my loving pet name "Sloth" came from… Anyway, so we went for a walk. It wasn't the best idea I've ever had, but it was spur of the moment, and I'm no good at improv.

We walked up and down Boston Avenue, which wasn't a smart move. There's this unofficial line between the north and west part of town: the west part was a huge shopping district, while the north part was known for gang violence. We had unwittingly crossed that line. Once you got past all the glitz and glamour of the nightlife, past all the cheery diners and their dancing eyes, downtown was a scary place to be if you're not careful. Knowing that should have deterred us, but I wasn't thinking, and how could he have known?

We ran into a creep. Yeah, our very first date and we ran into what could very possibly have been an axe murderer. At first we hardly noticed him—you could hardly see him in the shadows—but he came closer. Slowly he kept hobbling towards us. When we caught sight of him, we looked at each other and we could tell that both of us were thinking the same thing. We had no idea where he had come from, maybe from the bloody corpse of his latest victim, but we knew we had to get out of there.

We turned on our heels and walked, cool but quick. Never had I walked with such a purpose. Him and me. I can't help but smile when I think back to this. I don't know why… It isn't a particularly good memory—it's actually kind of a frightening one—but it's still really special to me for some reason. I guess that's how love works sometimes: you bond over the silliest, and _scariest_, things.

So we walked on for a bit, back towards the pretty side of the things. A quick glance back told us he was still coming, gaining little by little. Suddenly gory news reports and images of Jeffrey Dahmer were dancing in my head.

"Hey," I suddenly said. I think it scared him, Sora. When he was focused on something, I later learned, he put all of efforts into it and forgot the rest of the world. "Want to get some candy?" There was a brief look of confusion that flitted across his eyes before I gestured to a nearby gas station. He nodded his head and in we went. We crossed the street without even looking both ways!

Approaching the counter, Skittles in hand (because fruit chewies were his favorite), there was even more ruckus as a cabbie and his errant passenger almost came to blows in the parking lot right outside. The woman behind the counter ran out, raising Hell and threatening to call the cops. She even almost got involved in the fisticuff herself.

Again, we were terrified: it seemed like chaos was stalking us. But that was the last of the excitement for the evening; and when it was all over, all we could do was laugh. We stopped and laughed for a good five minutes, him on his feet and me doubled over on the sidewalk. It was funny, but it was also a huge relief that nothing horrible happened to us in a place where horrible things happen all the time. That would be the first of our little adventures.

We walked back to our cars (we had had enough of the night). I asked him if he wanted to come back to my place. Damn what Google says—oh, _suck it up!_ Ending such a great thing is hard to do when it's your first. And let's face it: I'm weak. My friends would be there, and we had a sparkly new Wii U. Since no one can resist that kind of allure, we drove back. We got there and I showed him in.

My friends loved him. I'm kinda surprised they hadn't met him yet, but it's a big school. And they loved him, of course. There wasn't a person in the world who didn't, I don't think. We all played and laughed for a couple more hours, but then he finally had to go. He had curfew to meet where he was staying.

The goodbye was sad. At least, for me it was. We walked to his car. It was _his_ car—not his parents'—and that impressed me for some reason. It was a lazy night, and the air was chilly. A semi drove by; its brights shining into our eyes and the radio blaring, but it was the only vehicle out on the roads. The hum of distant traffic and the echo of idle chatter drifted across the air. A red light blinked down the street, and we ran across the road to the parking lot at the other side.

We looked at each other as we stood there. Him beside his automobile, me awkwardly standing at a distance. I wanted to kiss him. But I didn't. I'm not that "aggressive" if you will, and I didn't want to seem too forward. Who wants to scare away their date? Of course, when I think back, anyone who gets scared by a kiss after the first date maybe shouldn't be dating after all!

So I said goodbye. I smiled. He smiled. The moon and the stars looking down on us probably smiled. _And then I shook his hand._ It was terrible and awkward and overall pretty crummy, but I can only look back and (you guessed it) smile at it now. How naïve was I!

And then he drove away. I waved goodbye one last time as I watched him go. It was hard, because I knew that even though it was only our first date, it was my _first_ date. And even though he couldn't help it, he was driving away with a little piece of me.

It was magical, that evening. The world was mine. Ours.

I can honestly tell you that—inside—part of me melted, right then and there. I had begun to hand my heart to him one hundred percent. It was a long process, or maybe it wasn't after all. But it can all be traced back to the only perfect evening the world will ever see.

-o-o-o-

And the rest, as they say, is history. No; I won't bore you anymore. But suffice it to say that after that night, I was smitten with him. It's funny… When I think back, I guess my memory isn't as fuzzy as I thought it would be. I must have just tucked that information away in the deep recess of my mind, because it was that special to me.

Okay, so I told you the story. Was it as good as you had hoped? Probably not… These kinds of stories are best when you're a part of them. I guess because they eventually become a part of who you are…

-o-o-o-

**7/21/2014**


	4. Orange - Kiss

-o-o-o-

**TheColourOfStarlight**

-o-o-o-

_Orange_

-o-o-o-

"…Are you ready for this?" Sora asked himself. He checked his hair one last time in the reflection from his phone's screen before he trudged up to the front door. The city was asleep, already tucked away in a thick blanket of snow, and the cold felt like some kind of divine punishment. Still, he would have preferred staying outside than braving such new territory. With having to fly out to meet his own family for Christmas later that day, he was already stressed out enough as it was.

But he had also decided it was finally time to bite the bullet and meet his boyfriend's mother. Roxas loved the holidays, and his face had lit up like one of his beloved Christmas trees when Sora agreed to the visit. It made Sora happy, but at the same time he really dreaded it.

Unlike Roxas, he was not particularly graced with a large amount of holiday cheer. They always made him feel, well… dead inside. Hopping from one house to another—being obligated to visit _every_ leaf on your family tree—it was all too frenetic for him. His mother was always on edge, and _he_ was always the one who experienced the brunt of her frustration. Not to mention the fun that was shopping anytime after Thanksgiving…

For Sora, it was all too much. He would have much preferred to make like a black bear and hibernate for the whole of winter than to deal with any of that. But here he was, staring down the barrel of a gun, all for his boyfriend. He was lucky Sora liked him this much.

He pulled his scarf up over his face and knocked on the door. The winter wind had begun clawing at his face, and he decided that maybe going indoors wasn't such a bad idea after all.

_ Maybe._

There was the shuffle of footsteps from inside and then the door swung open. Standing there was Roxas's mother. She was a tall woman whose blonde hair flowed down just past her shoulders. She was wearing a plain green blouse, and her thin lips were pursed, giving her a stern and ultimately intimidating expression.

"You must be Sora," she said. "Come in." He stared at her for a second before the command clicked in his head and he stepped inside.

The house was somehow all that Sora had expected, yet it still managed to defy his expectations. It was deathly quiet inside; barely perceptible was the small crackle of a fire in the next room. The small table in the entryway was devoid of anything except a small bowl housing a lonely set of keys, and a closer look revealed a keychain with Gary the Snail. Just like Roxas, the home was cold but had a heart nonetheless.

"It's nice to meet you. I'm Celes," she said as she extended a hand. She had an excruciatingly firm grip.

"H—Hi," Sora said dumbly. Despite his usual social graces, making good first impressions was never his strength and he knew it. Her bright blue eyes seemed to shoot through him, making him feel even more nervous than he already was.

"Roxas has told me all about you." Her face betrayed nothing.

"'Not… not all good I hope," Sora said, stumbling to find something original and witty to say. "That would make me sound boring."

"Oh, don't worry," Celes replied, "you're a very interesting person from what Roxas has told me…"

Her cool tone made her unreadable, and the warmth from the unseen fireplace seemed to emanate through the house. Sora, desperately wishing for Roxas to save him from this uncomfortable exchange, was trying to find some way to respond when Celes quickly interjected. "Speaking of which, where is that boy?" she seemed to read his mind.

Meeting Roxas's mother been a little uncomfortable, but there was a familiar kind of _déjà vu_ when he heard Celes call up the staircase for Roxas that made him feel a bit more at home. Not knowing what to do in the meantime, Sora decided to slide his shoes off by the door, a move that always seemed to earn him brownie points with his other friends' parents. Celes seemed to notice and nod in approval before telling him that Roxas would be down in a minute.

Soon Sora heard the creaking of floorboards above, and suddenly there was a flash of blond hair at the top of the stairs. Despite the hard flooring, the he didn't make a sound as he glided down the steps.

"Hey," Roxas said coolly. He was wearing a loose fitting T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts despite the arctic temperatures, and Sora couldn't help but give up a small laugh: he always teased Roxas and his straight boy sense of fashion, and he was not let down today.

"I'm really glad you could make it," the blond said. A big smile fell upon Sora's face as he went in to hug the boy, out of both love and a little relief. He stopped short, though, when he realized that Celes was still in the room, and settled for a stilted handshake instead.

"How was the ride over?" asked Roxas.

"Oh, it wasn't too bad," Sora shrugged. They continued to chat as they both clambered up the stairs and into Roxas's bedroom, leaving Celes alone.

It was about an hour before they heard Celes call them down for their early dinner, and they made their way downstairs. The meal passed with little incident, though Sora had never had a Cornish hen before, and he soon discovered that eating it with your fingers was a _faux pas_. In the end, however, Sora had truly enjoyed himself, and he felt he had made enough of a good impression to get Celes—in her own cold and awkward way—to like him.

-o-o-o-

Sora slid his shoes on at the door, sitting on the soft rug that ran the length of the hallway. It had seemed so foreign to him before, but now it felt like he was leaving behind a second home. Roxas stood close behind him, staying silent, with Celes lingering farther behind.

"Drive safely, Sora," Celes said with a firm nod. The brunet told her he would with a small smile. She said goodbye one last time and left the two alone.

"Text me when you get there," Roxas smiled, as he leaned in for a hug.

"I will," Sora said into Roxas's ear as he embraced the blond in silence. Neither of them was looking forward to the almost full month they would be spending away from each other. With airfare being so expensive this time of the year, they didn't have plans to see each other until the winter break was over. Therefore, this had to be a hug to last.

"I had a surprisingly good time here with you and your mom," Sora said as he released the blond.

"I know!" Roxas said, holding the other's hand tightly. "I'm kinda surprised by how well things went, to be honest. I wasn't really sure how it would go. My mom can be… _intimidating._" Sora smiled at him. It was quiet again. The fire had died down some time ago during dinner, and Sora felt oddly cold.

"There's mistletoe," Sora said at last, pointing up over the doorway. Roxas nodded, forgetting it was there. "Then kiss me," the brunet laughed suddenly, lightening the mood as Roxas blushed. Sora usually got the bad rap of being the airhead, but sometimes his boyfriend was totally oblivious.

They leaned in, and Roxas gave Sora a quick peck on the cheek. He had such soft skin that Roxas could never achieve despite his constant lotion use. An instant felt like a minute, and Roxas reluctantly pulled away, and even though they had done that a million times before, Roxas still couldn't help but grin like a fool.

"One more…?" Sora asked, as he presented his cheek to Roxas once more, "for the road?" Roxas smiled and swooped in for another kiss. With a quick turn of the head, however, Roxas soon found his lips meeting Sora's soft lips. It was electric.

It was almost shameful o admit, but they hadn't kissed before, not on the lips. They both wanted to take things slow. Bad relationships on both ends had taken their tolls, and both of the boys wanted to make sure they didn't mess things up this time.

And now that they were finally doing it. Roxas didn't exactly see stars, but he could've sworn his heart burst and his chest collapse into itself. There was no way to describe everything that he felt, exhilaration and pure bliss. He wanted to just stay there, feeling Sora's lips pressed against his own.

But they had to pull apart eventually, and when they did, there was silence once again. This time, it was one of those rare, happy silences. Sora gave him another quick peck on the lips and was going in for a third when Roxas advised him to go. It wasn't what either of them wanted, but he did have a plane to catch after all.

"Well… I'll see you next year," Roxas said, looking down at his shoes. He was trying his best to suppress his smile but was failing miserably. "Have a nice Christmas at home."

"…Actually, I have something to say before I go," Sora said, opening the door, "I'm Jewish." Everything outside was covered in white. The cold air blew in and hit Roxas in the face as his eyes widened into saucers: that would explain Sora's aversion to the holiday. The whole evening had been a show of ignorance.

"Oh, I 'm—I'm sorry. I didn't know. You never—"

"Just jokin'," Sora grinned. Roxas huffed and pushed his boyfriend out into a pile of snow…

-o-o-o-

**7/26/15**


End file.
